


Cold is the Colonel

by Cattew22



Category: Hogan's Heroes (TV 1965)
Genre: And so does Hogan, Cold winters in Germany aren't fun, Prisoner of War, Stalag 13, World War II, i hate the cold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:00:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25393489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cattew22/pseuds/Cattew22
Summary: Hogan hates winter. A lot. Please read and review, I greatly appreciate it. I had to write this for the season change.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	Cold is the Colonel

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this mainly because of my experience with winter so far. Therefore, I apologise if any of my own whining rears its head in this story. I hope you enjoy it, and please read and review!
> 
> As always, I don't own the characters or the show of Hogan's Heroes.

Colonel Robert E. Hogan hated winter.

Or, more accurately, he hated the cold, and winter just happened to be the coldest time of the year. When he was younger, Robert used to fall asleep during his classes whenever the weather turned cooler, and he’d always get in trouble for it. But was it his fault that the white snow outside made everything so calm and peaceful? That it made everything seem so still and quiet? And was it his fault that the still and quiet made him tired?

Not only was the snow like a lullaby, but the cold made him lethargic. He never understood why it seemed to affect him more than everyone else around him, or why he felt it so acutely whereas everyone else complained it was too warm. It was just his curse. He often questioned why humans couldn’t just hibernate like bats or bears.

(Part of him thinks that the codename “Papa Bear” is more fitting for him than even high command realizes.) 

Still, Robert hated the cold. This of course meant he got shot down over Germany, where it seemed, more often than not, to be snowing. 

(At least it wasn’t Russia.)

It didn’t help, of course, that the barracks weren’t well insulated, and that the freezing cold winds blew through the walls as if they were paper. Robert hated that his room, that his bed, was the furthest from the little stove the barracks shared. Even with the extra blanket from his nonexistent roommate, he was still shaking for most of the night. During the day, if he wasn’t out in the snow on some daring mission for London, he’d generally be found right next to the stove nursing a cup of LeBeau’s amazing coffee (or on the rare days, hot chocolate) and grumbling over the weather. 

He wasn’t sure if the men noticed or not. He wondered if they took note of his lack of speed on missions during the winter, or if they saw him shaking whenever it snowed and they were forced to stand outside waiting for Klink to come out of his cozy den of warmth. He wondered if they noticed his odd adoration of their stove, or if they wondered about his avid hatred of the cooler. Sometimes, when the wind got especially fierce and he desperately wanted to borrow someone’s thick coat or gloves (because let’s face it, his bomber jacket and cap just didn’t do a very good job of keeping him warm), he hoped they did notice. Other times, when they were out on missions and he’s standing knee-deep in snow shaking like a leaf, he really hoped they didn’t. (After all, colonels aren’t supposed to be scared by a little cold, and he imagines he must look so weak.) 

Robert couldn’t wait until the war was over. He’d bath in something other than frigid cold water (hypothermia in a tangible form, he was sure), and he’d buy a huge heater and dozens of blankets. Heck, he might even move to Florida.

He just hated the cold.


End file.
